


The Sea of Gatan

by Sareki



Series: Canon Consistent P/T Universe [1]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Episode: s06e03 Barge of the Dead, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-09 16:43:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6915115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sareki/pseuds/Sareki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day at the coast turns south for B’Elanna and her mother Miral</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sea of Gatan

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks must go to the community of people who help me write fic: CaptAcorn, Photogirl1890, Delwin, and RSB. And a special thank you to CaptAcorn for prompting me to write the story of the day at the Sea of Gatan from Miral's POV.

_“B'Elanna, daughter of Miral. It's not your time.”_

_“How do you know my name?”_

_“You've come close to boarding this ship many times. I remember the first. You were a child. Your mother took you to the Sea of Gatan. Your curiosity was as deep as the water.”_

_“I fell in. I almost drowned.”_

_“When your mother breathed life back into your lungs, she told you about me...”_

* * *

 

The stone bench, shaded by an outcrop of the cliff, was cool to the touch. Miral sat, enjoying the respite from the intense rays of the Klingon sun. She could remember running along this rocky coast as a child, the plants crunching under her bare feet and the cool wind tangling her curly hair. But now she found the salty sea air stifling and the foliage uncomfortable to tread on. 

Kessik had made her weak.

Miral looked out across the green and brown succulents that lined the shore to where her daughter played among the tide pools. Dressed in typically human shorts and a tank top, Miral couldn’t help but notice how B’Elanna’s bare rail thin arms and legs jutted out from her slight torso. When they’d arrived on Qo’noS a week ago, B’Elanna had refused to wear the typical Klingon wool and leather clothing Miral had packed for her. After a tantrum that had culminated in B’Elanna curling up in a ball on the floor and sobbing while her mother tried in vain to dress her, Miral relented. She replicated the light and airy human clothes B’Elanna wanted to wear. Even dressed in this fashion, the child had found the sweltering heat of the capital insufferable and had complained constantly. So Miral had decided to escape to the coast. 

Leaning back on her hands, Miral shut her eyes, taking in a breath. Only the sounds of the birds and the waves greeted her. Her life had become so quiet since John left. No shouts of anger; no squeals of delight. B'Elanna had become withdrawn: more often than not she could be found in her room, curled up on her bed with a book.

Just how quiet her life had become came starkly into focus when Miral had returned to her childhood home. Her mother and father shouted at each other, both in joy and anger. They spoke endlessly and loudly on the shortcomings of her child and the recent turns Miral’s life had taken. It was exactly how she remembered, yet entirely different.

It wasn’t only the heat of the city Miral had sought to escape.

Her mother’s words had grated on Miral's soul as the elder woman had reminded her, once again, that she never should have married John: that a human would never be able to commit to a life with her like a Klingon. Miral’s heart ached when her father commented on how thin and frail B'Elanna looked as the child quietly sat, absorbed in her reading.

A laugh cut through the silence. B’Elanna crouched near a tide pool, gently poking at whatever was there. The sun glinted off the water, and Miral had to squint to see her daughter giggle and shout something at the creature in the pool. Miral smiled. Her little girl had shouted in Klingon.

It was a pleasant change from how B'Elanna had been since John left. Six months ago, her daughter began refusing to eat anything but the blandest human foods. Then she’d started wrapping her hair up in scarves… scarves that happened to also cover her forehead. Miral’s breaking point had been when her bilingual daughter started claiming she couldn't understand Klingon.

Miral was at a loss. Why was B'Elanna rejecting her heritage? Miral had always been proud to be Klingon and had attempted to honor her people’s traditions even while living among humans. She wanted B’Elanna to have the same pride, to honor _both_ her human and Klingon blood. But since her husband left, the little girl seemed to only want to be human -- and that stung deep in Miral’s heart. Late one night, alone in her large bed, listening to the still alien even after almost a decade sound of the crickets outside her window, an idea had formed. It was time to go home. In a sea of humans, Miral was the only Klingon B’Elanna had ever met in person. The child needed to see Qo’noS, to be surrounded by others like her.

Now, after seeing B’Elanna interact with her Klingon family, Miral questioned the lasting impression this trip would leave on her daughter.  A few days after they’d arrived, a cacophony descended upon the house in the form of Miral’s oldest brother and his family. Her five nieces and nephews converged upon B’Elanna, curious about the cousin they’d never met. Miral couldn’t help but notice how even her brother’s youngest, who was two years B’Elanna’s junior, was still a head taller than her daughter. The sea of children soon became too much for her mother, and they were banished outside. Her father, a mug of blood wine in his hand, called after them; with B’Elanna, they had enough players for a No’Vitch match.

Miral watched as the children filtered out of the house, B’Elanna’s lithe figure bringing up the rear. Her daughter wasn’t used to being the smallest: B’Elanna’s Klingon genes had never afforded her that position among the children on Kessik. But now she was on Qo’noS. As the back door slammed shut, Miral hoped B’Elanna would perform as admirably on the No’Vitch pitch as she did on the playground back home.

The first time her daughter had gotten the ball, B’Elanna had been immediately tackled. Miral’s niece had torn through the house, shouting that B’Elanna was on the ground and leaking. As her mother’s eyes bore into her, Miral couldn’t help but grimace at the accuracy of the description. There wasn’t a word for crying in Klingon. Why would there be? Klingons had no tear ducts.

The heat blasted Miral as she stepped outside.  Her daughter was sitting in the dirt, head between her scraped knees. Kneeling down next to her, Miral placed a hand on her back. B’Elanna looked up at her, tears silently running down her dusty face, creating streaks of mud. Miral was never quite sure what to do when B’Elanna cried. In that moment, she cursed John. He’d known how to respond to B’Elanna’s tears; Miral had to guess. The other children looked on in confusion as Miral helped their leaky cousin up.

The girl was okay, but, after that, B’Elanna didn’t want to play outside. She sat alone and read. And Miral’s mother looked on, not missing the opportunity to tell her that she wasn’t raising her daughter as a Klingon. 

Why couldn't her mother understand that she was trying her best? A warrior has to pick and choose the battles to fight. And Miral felt besieged these days.

B'Elanna stood, another tide pool catching her eye. Miral could see her daughter look at the gap that separated her from her pool of interest. The child then looked back towards the cliff, then down at the sea. She clearly had two choices: walk back up the jutting cliff she was on, then back down the other side or jump across the gap. B'Elanna stood still for a moment, her brown curls whipping in the wind, judging the gap. Miral watched with curiosity, waiting to see the choice B’Elanna would make. Even if she fell in, the sea was not that rough, the cliff was not high, and her daughter was a good swimmer.  It would be a lesson, no matter how it ended.

B'Elanna started creeping towards the edge and Miral knew she'd made her choice: to leap. Miral's pride welled as her little warrior reached the edge. Giving it one last look, the girl sprung. 

Her jump was short. Miral knew it as soon as B'Elanna reached her apogee. As though in slow motion, her daughter floated feet first to the cliff face, her toes caressing the rocks. She then fell backwards, letting out a shout as she began to travel head first towards the sea.  A moment later there was a splash. 

Miral rushed to the cliff face, adrenaline pumping through her body. At the edge, she looked down, expecting to see B'Elanna bobbing in the gentle surf, or maybe already clambering up the rocks. 

Instead, her baby was face down in the water, unmoving. 

In an instant, Miral was in the air, the sea quickly approaching. Her feet, still in heavy boots, hit first, quickly followed by the rest of her. The warm water enveloped her, and Miral kicked hard to force herself up back towards the surface. Her clothes restricted her movement, but Miral fought. The ocean seemed to push her back while simultaneously taking her daughter further out to sea. Miral felt as though she was thrashing more than swimming; breathing in more salty water than air. 

It took a lifetime to reach her daughter. With one final kick of her powerful legs, Miral’s fingers brushed against B’Elanna’s thin arm. Grasping it tightly, Miral pulled her daughter close, turning her over in the process. She quickly wrapped her arm around the girl, drawing her child close to her chest, before using her legs and free arm to guide them back to the rocks. Finally within reach of the jagged shore, Miral reached out, the sharp rocks piercing the skin of her hand as she dragged herself and B'Elanna out of the water. Miral gasped the salt air and looked over to her daughter. She wasn't breathing. 

For a precious second, Miral was blinded by rage. How had everything changed so quickly? One moment, they'd been enjoying a day at the sea, and the next, B'Elanna was lying lifeless on a cliff face? 

But it only lasted a moment. She knew if her daughter were to live, she had to get her breathing again. Turning B'Elanna onto her back, she pinched her child's nose shut and covered the small mouth with her own. Taking a deep breath through her nose, Miral exhaled through her mouth, forcing air into her daughter’s lungs. Miral then pulled back and waited for signs of life. B'Elanna didn't move; she remained lifeless on the rocks, her lips taking on a frightening blue tint. Miral again tried to breathe life back into the small body. With each breath, she would pause, hoping that this time her child would stir.

After the fifth breath, rage set in.

After the tenth, despair. A world without her daughter whirled around her. 

On the fifteenth, B'Elanna jerked, her head smacking into Miral's. The girl began to convulse, expelling the sea from her lungs.  Her eyes flew open. Miral could see the fear and confusion in them and she quickly took B'Elanna into her arms, holding her close. The waves of relief that pulsed through Miral nearly made her sick. She squeezed her eyes shut as her blood pounded in her ears; her whole body felt numb. 

Gripping her daughter tightly, time began to move at a normal pace. The sound of the surf and the birds came back into focus. Miral opened her eyes, and saw the red blood dripping from her child's wet locks. There was a gash where the back of B'Elanna's head must have come in contact with the rock face. 

Miral pulled back, and began checking B’Elanna for other injuries. Satisfied that otherwise her daughter was alright, Miral stood, and offered her hand to B’Elanna. The little girl stood on shaky legs, looking like a newborn _lIngta'_. Holding her hand tightly, Miral had lead B’Elanna only a couple steps before her daughter sank to her knees and retched up the entire contents of her stomachs. Letting out a low growl, Miral turned to look upon her child. Drenched, bleeding, and spotted with her own sick, B’Elanna began to sob. Miral wanted to walk away, to let B’Elanna fight her own battle. She released her daughter’s hand and took a tentative step.

But her heart wouldn't let her leave B’Elanna on the rocks. Despite the fact that her daughter was nearly too large to carry, Miral knelt down and hefted the girl. B’Elanna instinctively wrapped her arms and legs around her mother, nuzzling her face against Miral’s neck.

As Miral clambered up the cliff, she rubbed B’Elanna’s back and tried to mimic the sounds John would make when their daughter would cry. Not that it seemed to help; B’Elanna was still crying by the time they reach their vehicle; her soft sobs in concert with the sound of the surf that had nearly ended her life.

With one hand, Miral opened the back of the craft, and set B’Elanna down on the edge of the luggage compartment. She then ransacked the area, searching for the medkit that she was sure had to be there. Finally locating it, Miral turned to look at her daughter, scanner in hand. The child didn’t seem to be in an overwhelming amount of pain; a quick scan of her daughter confirmed that she had no major injuries. But tears continued to run down her face nonetheless. Grabbing the dermal regenerator, Miral turned B’Elanna and lifted her wet hair, revealing the gash. A couple passes with the tool and the girl was as good as new.

Miral released the handful of hair and turned her attention to putting away the medical equipment. The sounds of B’Elanna’s sobs distracted Miral as she tried to focus on her task. Something about the noise caused her to want to lash out, fight whatever was causing B’Elanna’s distress. But there was no physical enemy. Only B’Elanna’s own fear.

Miral recalled her mother telling her of Sto’Vo’Kor and of how honorable warriors would be welcomed there to take part in the eternal battle. She’d always gained strength from her knowledge of the transient nature of her current existence. That death in this life mattered little. It only mattered that one lived and died as an honorable Klingon.

Looking at her sobbing daughter, Miral knew she was failing B’Elanna. If her daughter had died today, she would have been welcomed into Sto’Vo’Kor. Dying trying to surmount a physical challenge was honorable. But B’Elanna’s tears revealed her fear of an honorable death.

Miral’s mother was right. She wasn’t raising B’Elanna as a Klingon. It was time to change that. For both their sakes.

“ _maHvaD vIHtaHbogh Sto’Vo’Kor, Gre’thor je jatlh yInISQo', puqwI’..._ ”

 

_Fin_


End file.
